


Stay With Me

by oliveriley



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/F, Tumblr Prompt, i will admit to be sort of sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-16
Updated: 2014-07-02
Packaged: 2018-02-04 22:20:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1795198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oliveriley/pseuds/oliveriley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Supernatural AU where reality crashes and consequence is mandatory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. When You Leave I'm Lonely

**Author's Note:**

> **TW/CW for drug usage, suicide!**
> 
> Will be a short multi-chapter. Anonymous prompt via jonissheadcanons.

It had been a long day, Katniss mused, as she got into her truck and sat her hat in the passenger seat. She was a park ranger, and had taken a group hiking through Panem Nature Reserve for about ten miles that day, and her back was screaming. She started the ignition and rolled down her windows, backing out of the lot and heading home. Initially she was going to make a run to the grocery, but since about an hour and a half ago she'd had a twisting in her gut, making her immensely uncomfortable and unable to focus. She passed it off as general discomfort, though halfway home she immediately knew it was very much _not_ general discomfort. With a sharp yank, the truck swerved to the shoulder of the familiar back road, gravel crunching beneath the tires as the woman cut the engine and threw open her door. She heaved on the side of the road, leaning out of her driver's side door and retching, cursing herself for not eating more. She rinsed her mouth with a swig of water, and immediately vomited again, screwing her eyes shut as she held her braid away from her face. "Fuck," she mumbled, shaking as she sat up and tried to breathe a little more steadily, leaning back in her seat and sighing. Something was not right. The word bounced around inside of her, churning in her veins and making her sick and making her head throb.

_Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong._

Taking another five minutes to rest herself, though the edginess had only worsened, she started her car again and shook her hands, which had become clammy. Of course, she reasoned, her wife would be home to curl up in bed with and run her nimble fingers through her hair, like always. And Katniss would reassure the other woman that she was fine, there was no need to fret, but she would be brought soup and water and tenderly cared for. It was the contrast that she loved so much about her rugged carpenter wife - the way she would seem so intense, but would soften just so much for her wife, and though she was shorter, her large personality enveloping Katniss in its warmth. She had relaxed minimally by the time she had reached their street, but the churning in her stomach had come back full swing. She winced as she pulled into the drive next to the company truck that Johanna drove, and leaned her head against the steering wheel to compose herself. Getting out of the truck, she looked up at the house and frowned. Despite the summer sun still in the sky for about another hour, it was evening and the lights were usually on in the house. Tonight, however, they were minimal, being limited to the porch and kitchen. The woman checked her phone again, the last text from several hours prior, where Johanna had wished her a good day and said she would be taking a nap. Of course Katniss couldn't begrudge the woman a nap on her day off - which came by few and far between, but it would probably be considered a coma at this point. Not that it was unreasonable, since Johanna slept like a log. 

_Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong._

"Jo? Baby, I'm home," Katniss called, checking the comfortable sofa first. Johanna had insisted on their needing a comfortable sofa, and both were glad of the purchase once they started coming home to nap on it. "Baby?" She stuck her head through the door of the guest bedroom, which got less sun and was infinitely cooler, which Johanna had loved. If she had a headache she would have napped in there. "Jo, honey..." 

The bathroom door was open in their bedroom, and when Katniss walked by, ice filled her veins. Time slowed as she turned around and looked through to see Johanna on the floor, spilled over the tile, eyes glazed. She swallowed thickly, walking forward and falling to her knees with a thud she didn't hear, mechanically going through the motions of checking for a pulse. She pulled out her phone, calling her sister without a thought. "She won't wake up, Primmy. She's not breathing," she gushed upon the click of the answering line. "She... she's not... Prim..." her voice broke as she started sobbing, realization settling in her bones before her brain could wrap around it. Following the instruction of the nurse, Katniss phoned emergency services, her voice strangled and slow, shocked. 

"I'll stay on the line with you until help arrives," the cool voice of the operator assured, crackling through the speakers on her phone. Katniss thanked her numbly as she cradled Johanna's head to her chest, rocking her gently.

"Wake up. Wake the _fuck_ up, Johanna Mason," she growled through her too-thick throat, unable to feel the warmth she sought. Instead she was met with room-temperature skin and the sound of heavy boots and radio snow and voices coming up the stairs of their home, and she screamed as a pair of heavy arms pried her from her wife's body, but the familiar smell soothed her enough to stop the screaming and turn it to sobs as she curled into her best friend's chest. "She won't wake up," she croaked, as Gale held her firmly.

"Where are your keys, Catnip? I'll drive you to the hospital. You can go with her," he crooned, and she feebly nodded. The EMTs had already rushed the body of Johanna Mason to the ambulance, and the lack of sirens hung heavily in the air, making it thick and heavy on their shoulders. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

It was met with an exhausted, anguished scream. It was met with the sound of a heart breaking, echoing throughout the house.

_Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong._


	2. Like Bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saddish chapter. Not as sad as the last, I promise. The next one gets better! This is mostly a filler, actually. Sorry about that. But I had a thousand ideas and nowhere to put them. You guys probably hate the master bathroom in this house. I'm sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter name ("Like Bones") from the Della Mae song of the same name.
> 
> _We lay like lovers  
>  Lay like stones  
> Lay in the darkness and let the time pass  
> Like a stream  
> Till it turns us back to bone_
> 
> _As we lie between  
>  asleep and awake  
> I'll wait 'till the moment  
> when the dream has to break.  
> I'll love you the same as when the sun dies  
> but the truest moment  
> is when she does rise_

The funeral falls on a Tuesday. Gale helped her organize it through the haze that clouds her mind, a thick fog that makes it hard to breathe. It settles in her lungs and she wakes up choking out sobs that she can't endure. So eventually, she cries herself back to sleep. She'd taken a week off of work for this, and now as she stands towards the head of the casket with a small ragtag group, she feels numb. It's that ice that flows through her veins that makes her sluggish, and she stares at Peeta as he reads a eulogy. She doesn't hear him, but she can remember suggesting the baker to do it because of his way with words. The officiant makes it so awkward, she thinks, turning her gaze to him. Johanna wasn't religious at all.

_My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am thirty years old. I am in District Cemetery. I am at my wife's funeral. I no longer have a wife._

She repeated the words over and over in her head. It was harsh, sure, but it kept her grounded. She could no longer count the amount of times she woke up and tried to find Johanna in the bed. Or set the table for two. Or laid out clothes for the other woman before work, only to come home and find them still on the cold side of the bed. It had only been two weeks and her scent was stale on her side of the bed. Katniss had taken to putting swatches of pine needles folded into gauze in the drawers and slipped into Johanna's pillowcase. But it wasn't the same. It would never be the same.

She was led away from the funeral to her too-empty house, and put to bed. She didn't know which one of their friends was staying the night. She didn't care. There was plenty of room in the house.

\--

 

She had thrown herself back into her work. She poured over paperwork and journals on botany, kindly refusing human interaction with anyone but her drunkard boss, Haymitch. He kept to himself save for his appearance at the funeral, both of which Katniss were gracious for. She locked herself in her office, staying overtime, and coming home too exhausted to even eat. She slept on the sofa now, the stairs too daunting and the bed too cold. She preferred it that way. Limited interaction. Limited feelings. She never used the master bathroom. Idly, Katniss had considered selling the house. But she couldn't. Not after all the work they had put into it. All the work _she_ put into it. Johanna had barely slept while it was being built, carefully adjusting the blueprints and working until her hands were raw with the construction crew who helped to erect it. Johanna loved the house. She had made it a home. Katniss couldn't begrudge her that.

\--

About two months after the funeral, she stumbled through the door, bleary-eyed and exhausted. She didn't even toe off her boots or grab the throw, instead collapsing on the comfortable sofa that smelled only of her. Like the whole house, save for the old pine needles in the bedroom. She slept soundly, slipping into that tantalizing blackness as if it was the jacket she had started wearing. It was her father's old hunting jacket and she adored the fall and the winter for giving her the opportunity to wear it. Maybe one day she would go upstairs into the closet and grab one of Johanna's flannel shirts to wear. But not today. Today was for sleeping, sent home from work early because, "Damn, girl, you need it," she was gruffly told by her supervisor as he took a drag from his flask. 

_"Shit!"_

Katniss's eyes flew open, the clatter and bang from upstairs catching her attention immediately. Although she was sleeping not nearly enough, hunter's instincts would always win out. She immediately crept to the door, grabbing one of Johanna's throwing axes and making her way up the stairs. She set her jaw, opening the door to the bedroom. Her heart thundered unreasonably in her chest as more swearing was heard, but the background noise had stopped. She inched towards the master bathroom's door and froze. A million things went through her head, ending with a serial killer. A very loud one. She kicked open the door and swung the small axe up, ready to throw, but froze in place, her feet cemented to her spot at the threshold where he dropped the axe and her hands flew to her mouth, eyes misting as she choked down a sob.


	3. It's All Falling Through, And So I Reach For You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from "A Falling Through" by Ray LaMontagne.
> 
> _Stay, stay and watch the coals  
>  Till they cease to glow   
> Like empty promises _
> 
> _Why, Why did you go, why did you go away?  
>  Why, Why did you go, why did you go away? _
> 
> _Baby?_
> 
> _There's nothing I can say  
>  Nothing I can do   
> To bring you back again _
> 
> _This of life I know is true  
>  It's all a falling through   
> And so I reach for you_

_"WHAT THE FUCK!"_  
"Kat, no - Jesus! Stop! Throwing! Things!"  
"FUCK YOU, JOHANNA FUCKING MASON!"  
"Kat, please, let me... oh, Christ's sake, you're not even hitting me!"  
"MOTHER! FUCKER!"

She hurled another shoe into the bathroom, tears blinding her as she threw with all of her strength, collapsing to sob on the floor, slumped against their bed. _Her_ bed. This was it, she lamented to herself, this was where she finally lost it. She curled up on herself and let out a strangled, choking scream, screwing her eyes shut and steadying her breathing. "Kitty? Are you okay?" Oh. Yes. She was _definitely_ gone. The realist in Katniss persevered, and she accepted that it was only in her head. She was imagining things. It had to be one of the stages of grief - delirium _had_ to be on the list. 

So she didn't pay it any mind when Not Johanna sat next to her watching television. She ignored it while Not Johanna begged for her attention while she was cooking, when Not Johanna joined her for dinner, when Not Johanna sat on the counter while she did the dishes. She ignored Not Johanna everywhere in the house, because everywhere she went for the rest of the day, Not Johanna was hot on her heels. She could get through this. She went to sleep on the sofa, and woke the next morning with an extra blanket over her shoulders. She must have gotten cold and grabbed it from the closet, she reasoned, though had no recollection of being awake longer than she had to. The sleep syrup she was prescribed - albeit gross - worked wonders for her. Clawing her way back to the real world through the inky sleep in her mind, Katniss robotically went through the motions of preparing her coffee as she went upstairs to change into her work clothes. 

"Boo." She gritted her teeth, and stomped down the stairs. "Come on, baby, you gonna ignore me _forever_? At least let me explain why..." 

Katniss shut off the coffee maker and grabbed her keys, not even bothering with a thermos as she trudged to her car, the cold air waking her effectively. Her office at the park had a Kuerig anyways. She was met with a welcome relief at work that day. Silence washed over her as she sat at her desk, hands wrapped around a mug of hot coffee. She started on her paperwork, stopping about twenty minutes in. The silence was what she was used to. There was no Johanna here and there was no Not Johanna here. Every fiber of her body ached for her wife: her voice, her touch, her laugh, _anything_. She cradled her face in her hands and cried, her world crashing around her with a new sense of insecurity. She almost could have embraced the finality until she started hallucinating. Eventually the sun began to set and Haymitch rapped his knuckles on the office door, wishing her a happy Friday on his way out to the bar. _Shit._ Friday meant the weekend. Katniss had become a homebody on the weekends, preferring herself and the ghosts of the past to the company of human beings, which she interacted plenty with during the week. She pushed her chair out from beneath her desk after a few minutes of contemplation and made her way out into the dark, sliding into her truck and sitting numbly as it roared to life. It took its time warming up, and she began the drive home with a stone in her stomach. Not Johanna would be there. Not Johanna would plague her at the house for the rest of her life as a widow. She pulled into the drive and sat slumped in the seat, looking up to where the light in the living room flickered on. She narrowed her eyes. No. She must have left it on.

Unlocking the door and then bolting it behind her, Katniss made her way up the stairs. "I hope you know how hard it is for me to do shit like that!" Not Johanna called from the sofa, and Katniss gritted her teeth. She stripped off her clothes and showered, opting for flannel pants and one of Johanna's old band tee shirts that she had adopted as a sleep shirt. She donned her robe and slippers and made her way downstairs to the kitchen, pausing to look into the living room. "You still take long showers." She glared at the sofa and continued her march, throwing open the fridge and grabbing a leftover tray of lasagna that Annie had made her. _Again_. And really, she appreciated the gesture. But it was all Annie could cook. She stuck a plate of it in the microwave and jammed some of Peeta's bread in the toaster, stuffing the loaf and the tray into the refrigerator again and waiting for her meager dinner as she poured a ginger ale. "You know I'm getting used to you ignoring me. But I'm not leaving. I can't leave." She set her jaw and took her dinner to the living room, setting it on the coffee table and turning on the television, turning on the news for background noise. "You hate this shit. You must be really mad."

"No shit."

" _Whoa._ An answer? For me?" Not Johanna clutched her hands to her chest, feigning shock. "I... I'm flattered! I'd like to thank the Academ -"

"Why are you even here? You're _not real_ ," Katniss spat, turning to face Not Johanna, who gave her baleful look. Her hand hovered as if she were going to reach over to Katniss and cup her cheek like she used to, but fell to her lap and she drew her lip into her mouth instead.

"I didn't... I didn't mean to leave. I just wanted to sleep. I didn't want to _feel_ so much, Kitty... I... I never wanted to leave..."

"You did."

"I can't. I can't fucking leave. I have shit to do here, apparently!" Not Johanna snapped, pursing her lips and reclining with her arms crossed over her chest. Realization crashed down on Katniss as she stared at the faint image of her wife, distorting the arm of the sofa behind her.

"Jo," she choked, bringing a hand to her mouth and shaking her head, curling her knees to her chest. "Jo you're fucking dead."

"Yeah, thanks, brainless. When'd you figure that out? When you were throwing shit through me?"

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter was weird for me to write. About two years ago I had a similar situation, and used my memories of that day to try and make Katniss's reaction a little more real. And the stomach thing I will attribute to a kind of premonition, because that's _exactly_ how I felt before I went home and found the person I knew.


End file.
